Treacherous Waters
by Ink Cat
Summary: When a rash of drownings strikes the faculty and students of a rural high school, Mulder and Scully are sent to investigate. [Case file, mystery, hints of MSR]


**Rating: **Rated T for some scattered swearing.  
**Author's Notes: **Yes, it's in Hawaii, yes, I'm a resident, but if that makes it a more accurate and comprehensive story, I'm willing to place it on my island at the risk of seeming self-insert-y (definitely not a word).  
**Disclaimer: **Mulder, Scully & Co. aren't mine. A few scattered characters are, though, and a few are based on acquaintances.

**Punahou High School  
Honolulu  
9:28 pm**

The night janitor whistled as he began his rounds. It was Friday, and he was looking forward to going home to his apartment downtown, ordering some food, and watching Jeopardy. _Pizza or Chinese?_ he mused as he emptied one of the many trash cans along the hallway of the school's English department. He smiled. Both.

He swirled his mop in the bucket's soapy (but undeniably murky) water, then tossed it on the linoleum where it landed with a wet plop and the smell of lemon cleaning solution. Swishing the mop across the sticky floor, he hummed the theme song to, in his opinion, the greatest of game shows.

Silently, a dark shape skulked in the shadow of a block of lockers.

He wished that he looked like Alex Trebec. He smoothed his upper lip with a fair amount of disappointment. He had been trying to cultivate a mustache, but so far all that he had were a few straggly hairs. He shrugged inwardly. That cute cafeteria worker had been smiling at him earlier, so maybe it was enough. _Women just can't resist a man with a mustache_, he thought, chuckling to himself.

The shape emerged, trailing soundlessly behind the janitor.

What was her name again? Leia, that was it. Maybe he should make it a point to come to work early on Monday… the food service staff got off only about a half-hour before he started, and he could pretend to accidentally bump into her on her way out.

Closer. Closer.

He nodded with a self-satisfied smile. That was exactly what he would do. _Would it be too much to wear cologne?_ he wondered.

A pause. Hesitation?

No. Cologne was good. He'd wear his best shirt, too, the yellow one. It was only slightly stained, certainly nothing major. He bet she wouldn't even notice.

He stopped, finished the last section with a satisfied flourish, and turned to walk back down the hall.

The campus was silent this time of night. The after school practices had ended, the students gone, and the few remaining teachers had long since headed home.

There was no one there to hear him scream.

**J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington DC  
7:14 am**

Special Agent Dana Scully entered the empty elevator, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly as the doors slid soundlessly closed. Quarter after seven was an ungodly hour to have to come to work.

She mentally went over her list of what she wanted to do as her eyes fluttered closed. Check with Agent Pendrell on those crime scene photos she had ordered enhanced. See if Ballistics had finished processing the gun used in the Jersey shootout. Make sure that Trace was re-annalyzing the samples from the bombing. Just follow-up work. The cases had all been easily closed, explained away by perfectly mundane occurances. Well, as mundane as murder could be, anyway.

The elevator came to a halt with a '_ping_'. Scully's eyes flicked open and she had just enough time to regain her composure before stepping coolly out of the elevator. As she walked down the long corridor towards the Tech Lab, she thought about her partner. _I wonder how he's doing_, she mused_. I haven't heard from him in a while. Hopefully he's not gotten himself into _too_ much trouble…_

Just as she reached for the knob to the lab she felt a hand on her forearm. Turning her head, she noticed the young trainee at her elbow. "Agent Scully?"

"Yes?" she asked warily.

"The Assistant Director wants to speak with you."

_Shit._ With a murmured word of thanks to the woman, Scully retreated back to the elevator. As the elevator arrived she examined the now-packed car. She wedged herself in between a tall man and a very muscular woman, the hem of her coat barely clearing the elevator doors.

She had a sudden iritable (and not at all realistic) thought, then pushed it out of her head, chiding herself for behaving like Mulder. But regardless of her self-inflicted reproving, the thought stuck, and when she was jostled upon leaving the elevator, when her briefcase sprung open and it's contents went flying, she was struck by the pessimism even more strongly.

_It's a sign._

**  
7:21 am**

_Knock knock._

Scully tapped her foot apprehensively as the secretary rapped on AD Skinner's door. "Agent Scully to see you, sir."

"Send her in."

Mulder looked up at his partner as she entered. She nodded to Skinner. "Good morning, sir."

"Have a seat, Agent Scully."

She took the leather-upholstered chair across from his desk, giving her partner a glance after she was seated as means of saying hello. Both of the agents knew that Skinner didn't like to waste time on greetings, and didn't like it when others did.

"Congratulations on solving the Jersey shoot-out case. It was a very public one, and I'd like to commend you both for helping to close it so quickly".

Scully, once again, nodded; Mulder vocalized his appreciations with a quick "Thank you, sir."

Mulder's eyes flicked back to his partner's. Scully knew that he was disappointed; he had wanted so badly for the man's ravings of ghostly figures forcing him to kill those people to have been real, when in fact it had just been a cheap attempt at an insanity defense. Mulder had been quite depressed when he had realized that the specters had been the invention of an imaginative defense attorney with a client backed into a corner and a courtroom full of damning evidence.

"I have another case for you two." He opened a manilla folder on his desk, straightening out a stack of papers with a quick tap on the table. He handed them to Scully, who flipped through them with the precise and calculating eye of the scientist that she was.

"A few weeks ago at a high school in Honolulu, a janitor turned up dead. Police found him near the English wing, which wasn't odd since that was the area that he usually cleaned. The Medical Examiner ruled the death a suicide because of the total lack of defensive wounds, and it was pushed back. But since then, two more people have died in the same area, in the same way. I need you there to wrap this up as quickly and quietly as possible, before the media stirs the public – parents especially – into a frenzy." He added curtly, "Your flight leaves tonight."

"Sir, it says here that there was no water source anywhere near the victim," pointed out Scully, "but the cause of death is listed as-"

"I know," he cut her off, giving them both an odd look. "Drowning."

**  
7:47 am**

"What's so odd about that, Scully?" asked the agent as they took a seat in one of the many small courtyards that dotted the FBI headquarters. "The killer could have very well shoved the victims' heads into a water fountain, or, or a toilet, for that matter."

Scully looked up from the cup of coffee she was cradling, trying to warm her gloved hands, and raised one delicate eyebrow in the derision so common at the start of their cases. "Swirlied to death?"

His face was carefully blank – although time had taught her that the slight twist at the corners of his mouth were a sign of his hidden amusement – as he answered, "It wouldn't be the first time."

She set down the cup, however, and picked up the massive stack of papers that made up the case file. "Be that as it may, Mulder, the murder weapon in this particular case was not a toilet. The crime lab tested the water. It's _ocean_ water."

Mulder stared straight ahead. "Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, Scully, but," he turned his head to look at his partner with wide eyes, as if imparting some sage bit of wisdom, "Oahu _is_ surrounded by water. Most islands are, you know."

She gave him her reproachful _I-know-you-know-that's-not-what-I-meant-you-idiot_ look, and glanced at the file again. "The lab tested the trace elements of the water. They contained algae, coral polyps, and several other types of marine micro-organisms."

Mulder looked up from thoughtfully studying his hands. "Once again, nothing unique…"

"They ran analysis tests against samples from various parts of the island. Since each area has its own unique signature - certain chemicals near industrial areas, varying abundances of organisms in different habitats and so on - they were able to pinpoint where the water was from."

"Okay, I'll bite. Where was it from?"

Scully pulled out a map of the state that she had snagged from the FBI's documents department on her way out. "Here," she marked the point with a star, "is the school." The location was on the southern side of the island, a decent distance away from the coast.

"Now the first sample is form here." Scully indicated a spot on the opposite side of the island, quite far from the shoreline. "They can tell the distance from shore by the lack of chemicals and other impurities in the water." She glanced at another sheet. "The next is from here, and the most recent from here." Scully indicated points that grew steadily closer to the island in a straight line.

Brow furrowed, Mulder examined the map. "He's trying to make a point, but I don't know what it could possibly be."

Scully propped her chin on her palm, staring at the paper. "Neither do I. I suppose we'll be able to find out more when we get there." With an exhaled breath she let her eyes slide shut. "What time do we leave?"

Mulder consulted a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket. "6:35"

Scully's brow furrowed at the thought of yet another early-morning, cross-country flight with Mulder, then she shook her head in resignation and took a sip of her coffee.

Mulder smiled. "Pack the sunscreen, Scully. We're going to Hawaii."


End file.
